I believe in you, my soul
I stopped writing for awhile. Stopped singing, stopped painting. I spent this winter on pause -- the wintry ice trapping my blue sneakers to my bedroom floor, my face pale, my lips blue and my eyes gray, and they all saw through my walls.
But then the moon came out -- it wasn’t spring enough yet to see the sun from my bedroom window but the moon burned over the hill and lit me on fire. And all of a sudden I could see the stars again, and I laughed at the squirrels skittering over the frozen ground. And maybe it was the sleep standing on my corneas or the coffee doing backflips in my blood veins, but it was as if the earth was screaming through me, a last desperate attempt to make me understand and I yelled to the softest star
I believe in you my soul
My conductor
The soil on floorboards and the dust in sunbeams
My voice
I believe in you.
And in the moment the very Earth rendered me mute with its message, I found my voice.